Monthly Archives: February 2012

Brik Wars-Sending your inner child to war!

I’ve mentioned that I am a huge nerd, but I’ve not really delved into that very much yet. Well, buckle up cause it’s about to get nerdy in here. But first, the obligatory picture of Katherine Heigl in a bra.


Seriouslyy, this is getting me more views.


This past weekend, some friends and I took a break from our weekly game of Heroclix to try out Brik Wars. Brik Wars is a ruleset that someone made that takes the building toys we all played with as a child (namely Lego, Mega Bloks, etc) and turns them into game pieces for a Warhammer-style strategy wargame.


Blocks go to war!

Now take a moment to let that soak in…the same mock battles that we had our Legos fight as a child, now with rules of engagement.. Yes, this is one of the most awesome ideas to come down the pipe in a long time. There are rules to cover pretty much anything you can build. Build a custom vehicle and cover it with weapons; a simple series of formulae based on the size of your creation will calculate how it works in the game.


Tiny clown gets cut in half by the Grim Reaper.

Another aspect of Brik Wars is that you can take those great licensed characters you’ve got in Lego form like Darth Vader, Jack Sparrow, Harry Potter, and yes, even Spongebob. and make them the commander or “hero” of your army. You hero gets extra skills that the rest of your troops don’t get, and can perform “heroic actions” limited only by their schtick and your imagination. For example, you can have Vader force choke opposing characters, have Harry Potter perform feats of magic, and have Spongebob…make reall uncomfortable sexual innuendos? An example of this, I had my hero, Lord Voldemort, use his magic to influence the mind of an opposing clown flying a bomber toward my army and make him turn around and attack another player instead. Yes, it was as awesome as it sounds.


"He Who Must Not Be Named" contemplates stealing an ATV.

If you’ve ever had any love in your heart for Legos or similar block-toys, I highly recommend you head over to and check it out. It’s reignited my long-dormant love for legos, and paired it with my love of over-the-top wargames.


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And now, a story about a sandwich…

It’s Superbowl Sunday, and that can only mean one thing; I’m gonna write about the shittiest sandwich I’ve ever made. Also, those two things have precisely dick to do with each other.

Also, let’s just get this out of the way early. I got a lot of hits last time from people searching for pictures of Katherine Heigl in a bra…and I like getting hits.


So anyway, this story harkens back to the glorious mid-1990’s. I’m about 12 or 13 years old, and both of my parents are at work. I’m home alone, hungry, and apparently not too bright. Also, in desperate need of groceries. I scour the kitchen like a…dude who scours places…for things…maybe Indiana Jones, I don’t know, I just know I was fucking hungry.

So I found two heels of bread, that’s a good start. Next I find a piece of bologna. This bologna was past its prime, but not quite rotten. You know how bologna starts turning all leathery when you leave it in the fridge too long? Well, there was a soft patch in the middle about the size of a quarter. Now, I’ve told this story before, and was asked “why didn’t you just make a bologna sandwich?” I honestly can’t answer that. Needless to say, I did not. I kept looking…and finding. I then found some cream cheese, or as I like to call it “America’s favorite condiment”…and I kept looking. The final component of what would come to be called “The Hell Sandwich” was a packet of Arby’s Sauce. You know, that red shit they put on roast beef sandwiches.

Fuck you, Arby's sauce, you ruined my life.

Naturally, making a sandwich out of these ingredients is a sickening proposal. That’s why I put it in the electric sandwich machine. A few minutes later, I had two scalding hot triangles of pure hate. Hate with charred edges. I took my terrible new meal back to the sofa to consume in front of some terrible syndicated evening television (probably COPS reruns) and, naturally, bit in without letting it cool. What came flooding into my mouth has been officially dubbed “molten terror”. A union of bologna drippings, Arby’s sauce, and melted cream cheese of indeterminate age. It was about 8000 degrees, and tasted like magma that had been stored in a dead hobo’s ass.

I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.

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